


Stop That

by lettalady



Series: Tom & the tub [5]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another in the Tom & the tub series - because I have a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop That

You’re between shots, trying not to openly gape at the man sprawled out in the tub. He’s ten miles of hunk wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt, shorts, and boots, and enjoying the hell out of the day. He’s dunked another cup of water over his head and shaken the excess from his just-long-enough-to-curl hair.

You’re distracted and gripping the camera so hard it’s starting to hurt your hand. That sopping white t-shirt, droplets falling from his now dark curls, just adds to the problem. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself and flashes the room a lopsided grin. 

You hear the camera emit a noise, indicating it has taken a photo of the floor. At least it’s all digital rather than old-school film. You’ll delete that from the series later before anyone can see or comment. 

Your boss had been nonchalant about the whole thing. _“_ _Use the props and the room to your advantage. It’s a beautiful claw foot bathtub. Mr. Hiddleston will be able to use it however he likes.”_

The moment Tom walked into the room you knew you were in for one hell of a photo-session. White t-shirt. Water. No - that couldn’t go wrong at all.

Evidently the magazine enjoys tormenting their readers. And your boss enjoys tormenting you.

So now you’re trying to be professional while Tom “I’ll flirt with a brick wall” Hiddleston poses in the porcelain tub. At least there are a few others on hand – all of you working together to capture the moment.

You don’t even come close to filling your memory card with photos, but the time limit of the session expires. Everyone has places they need to be, including Hiddleston himself, you’re sure. 

You plug the data card into your tablet. You’ll pull up a few on the screen to show as a sample of what you’ve shot - what might appear in the magazine. You drag your fingers across the screen hoping to quickly scroll through to find the one you’d accidentally taken of the floor and remove it from the set.

Evidently you’d held onto the trigger a bit longer than you first thought. There are several blurry shots of your feet. You tap to start to delete the few from the set.

“Test shot?”

Busted – and not by one of your coworkers but by Tom himself. Quick, think of something clever to say. You turn to find yourself looking right at his chest, the towel he’d been using to dry off now draped over his shoulders. When you lower the tablet he switches his focus from the inanimate object to your eyes. Bad plan – bad plan! “Y-yes. Well, no. Sorry those won’t be included in the – that is I need to edit the set first. And…”

“Can I have a look?”

Rather than continue to fumble through your words you snap your mouth shut as he gently lifts the tablet from your hands. He has his sunglasses shifted to sit up atop his head now, nestled into those quickly drying curls. The result of toweling his locks dry, his hair is mussed.

Probably what he looks like fresh out of bed, or the shower, or…. Dangerous line of thought. Stop that.

He takes a second to scroll slowly through the session. “Cool. Have any of your other work on here?”

“Oh um…” You do, actually. You tip the tablet back in your direction to save the file set before swiping over to the collections you keep on the tablet. Helps to book future jobs when you have a portfolio with you at all times. Not to mention the data cloud …

Rather than have him scroll through image after image of other celebrity photo sessions you open one of the compiled albums of edited works. That’s safe. And… ok, it is a little weird but he seems interested. Should you try to talk him through the photos as he scrolls? No, no if he wants to know more he’ll ask.

He’s taking his time studying the images. You’re taking your time studying every nuance of every expression that crosses his face. When will you get this chance again? Well – when you’re editing the photos for your boss… but live, in person, up close. So close you can smell the sexy…. You shake yourself again. Stop that.

Tom has paused, eyebrows now arching as he lifts his gaze from the screen with an amused expression, “And what have we here?”

It’s your Hiddleston collection, shots that you’ve snagged and edited from various publicity events. He’d evidently scrolled right on through the end of the album you’d opened and right into the next in the queue.

Curse the data cloud. Curse trying to show off to this delightfully masculine creature whose long fingers are currently….

Christ. Stop that. Stop it now.

“Oh – that…” You continue to curse things, starting now on the room and the objects held within. Curse the door over there. Curse the wall. Curse the claw foot tub. _Especially_ that goddamn claw foot tub. You make a face as you pull the tablet from his hands, “I’ll just - take that back now. So, clearly - I’m a fan. Yes. And now I’m going to go die.”

Tom laughs and shakes his head, “No, no. Don’t do that. Who will edit the photos of me for the magazine? You’re very talented. I’m in good hands.”

Yep. Tom “I’ll flirt with a brick wall” Hiddleston. That’s what he should legally change his name to.


End file.
